


No One Can Know

by ihavetodothis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 12:43:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4180287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihavetodothis/pseuds/ihavetodothis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco is up to something and Harry is determined to find out what it is. Oneshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No One Can Know

**Author's Note:**

> Set somewhere between fifth and sixth year. I wrote this a pretty long time ago, but here it is!

           Double Potions left Harry feeling dizzy and tired; they had been making Calming Draughts, which were steamy and dark green, like day-old pea soup. He figured he must have inhaled too much of the fumes. There was only a ten-minute break between Potions and Charms, which was not enough time for Harry to take a nap.

           Turning to face his best friend, it seemed as though Ron had the same idea; his eyes were droopy and halfway closed. The Calming draughts must have gotten to him, too.

           "They really should have told us. More than half the class looks like they're about to faint," Hermione spoke up behind them, shoving her Potions book back into her bag.

           "How come...you're not...tired, then?" Ron asked in the middle of a yawn. The corners of Hermione's lips twitched upward into a small smirk and she took a coil of vine-like fibers out of the pocket of her robes.

           "Hold on," Ron said, squinting at the fibers skeptically, "that's Nonasom! Where did you find that?"

           "Neville gave me a bit last year. I usually only use it after I'm up late studying for a test. It’s a lot better than coffee, actually--"

           "You had this the whole time, and you didn't give any to us?"

           Ron made a face of indignation at her, both of them walking more quickly now, and she furrowed her eyebrows.

           "Snape moved you two all the way across the room from me! I couldn't just walk over and give it to you. I would have gotten in trouble!"

           "Well, you already knew we were making Calming Draughts, didn't you?"

           Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ron, but they didn't stop walking.

           "No. It’s not like I can see the future, Ron."

           "Then, why did you have it with you?"

           Harry brought his gaze down to the ground, partially to avoid looking at Hermione's and Ron's matching glares and partially because his head kept bobbing that way, as if he'd lost the energy to keep it straight on his neck. They’d been getting a lot touchier around each other recently, but he was too tired to think about why.

           When Hermione raised her foot to round a corner, Harry spotted a folded piece of parchment that seemed to have been stuck to the bottom of her shoe. He reached down, grabbed it, and stopped suddenly to read it -- Hermione and Ron were so busy arguing, they continued to walk toward Flitwick's classroom without him.

           On the piece of parchment, hastily printed black ink scrawled out the following:

I'll bring you-know-what to you-know-where after Potions, but you'd better hurry. If Filch is around, forget it.

           Harry looked up, still holding the parchment, and saw Malfoy standing still in the middle of a crowd of students pushing past him, staring at the note in Harry's hands with an open mouth.

           Once their eyes had connected, Malfoy turned around and briskly started walking down the hall in the opposite direction. Without thinking, Harry tucked the parchment into his robes and went after him.

           Malfoy swore under his breath as he looked back at Potter, who was surely following him now, and began practically jogging around the corner, trying to lose him. But, Harry wasn't about to let Malfoy get away just because he was a bit groggy. He knew Malfoy must be up to something --why would he be running away from Harry if he had nothing to hide?

           Harry's lungs ached as he ran after Malfoy, up stairs, around corners, desperately trying to catch up to him. There was no way either of them was getting to his next class now, although Harry figured Malfoy must have been planning to miss whatever was next on his schedule.

           Finally, after what must have been only fifteen minutes, they reached a dead end and Malfoy whipped around to face Harry with his wand held out in front of him.      

           "Why are you following me?"

           "Why are you running away from me? Got something to hide?"

           Malfoy scowled, his narrowed eyes darting around the room, searching for a way out, but there was nothing down this hall save for an old, dusty wooden wardrobe. He took a step toward Harry, who had also gotten his wand out, and straightened his back, trying to look as intimidating as possible.

           "Get _out_ of my _way_."

           "Tell me what you're up to."

           Malfoy's nostrils flared angrily and he took another two steps forward.

           "Nobody asked you to _investigate_ , Potter. There’s no one here for you to save, so why don’t you learn how to _stay the hell out of other people's business_ and let me through. Or don’t, actually. It’d be my pleasure to hex you."

           "I’m not going anywhere until you tell me--”

           " _Impedimenta!_ "

           " _Protego! Incarcerous!_ "

           " _Protego!_ "

           Sparks flew from both of their wands so quickly, Harry was surprised he was able to react in time, and even more surprised that Draco was proving to be the best dueling opponent his age he'd ever taken on. Harry had training he thought Draco hadn't, but it didn't seem to matter.

           After a good number of spells cast on both sides, Harry was startled when he was thrown back and his wand flew out of his hand onto the floor near Malfoy, who snatched it immediately and tucked it away into his robes.

           Malfoy had raised his wand again, his white-blond hair falling messily onto his face, and got ready to perform another spell when they heard the sound of a very specific set of footsteps echoing off the walls, not so far away. With wide, terrified eyes, they looked at each other and said, in synch: "Filch."

           Harry ran toward the wardrobe, which he knew was probably only big enough to fit one of them. Apparently, Malfoy hadn't paid any attention to the wardrobe, because he stood there, looking confused, as Harry opened it and climbed inside.

           The doors of the wardrobe rattled furiously as Draco banged on them, but Harry held the door closed as tightly as possible.

           "Let me in!"

           "Piss off, Malfoy. Find another place to hide."

           "Potter, this isn't funny! Let me in!"

           Filch was approaching quickly; he had obviously heard all the commotion and was coming to figure out what was going on. Malfoy, still pulling at the door of the wardrobe aggressively, grunted in frustration as the footsteps drew closer. When it was apparent he was not strong enough to open the doors as long as Harry was holding them, he stood back and exhaled loudly, crossing his arms.

           "Fine. If I get caught, I'll just tell Filch where you are."

           Of course Malfoy would. There was absolutely no point to lock him out now that he realized they’d both get in trouble if Malfoy were caught, and if Malfoy somehow found his way out of the hall, he'd make off with Harry's wand and get back to doing whatever he had been heading off to do.

           "You--oof!"

           As soon as Harry had opened the door, Malfoy had flung himself into the wardrobe with him, painfully squashing him against the wall.

           "Ow! Geroff me!"

           "I can't, you idiot. There's not enough room."

           "Then move so you're not on top of me, for fuck's sake."

           "I _can't_. There's nowhere to go."

           Frustrated, Harry tried to shift his arms and legs, but soon realized this was the exact wrong thing to do. His leg ended up trapped between Malfoy's, and his arms crumpled painfully against Draco's skinny torso, causing him to breathe more quickly.

           "Potter, if you don't move your leg--"

           "Shhh!"

           The footsteps had come to a stop. Harry heard Filch sniff the air like a bloodhound and take a few steps near the wardrobe.

           "Something's not right here..."

           Mrs. Norris responded with a short, "Meow" and Filch cleared his throat, becoming more excited with each passing second at the prospect of catching students breaking the rules.

           "Someone out where they shouldn't be...can't have gone far, though..."

           Harry tried to move again, but was only able to wiggle around fruitlessly -- Malfoy's warm, minty toothpaste breath was hitting his cheek, and his bony elbow was digging into Harry's stomach.

           "Get out my wand," Malfoy whispered near Harry's ear when Mrs. Norris meowed again. The hairs on the back of his arms stood up and he felt himself shiver as though a ghost had walked through him.

           "Why?"

           "Just do it! I can't move my arms."

           "Neither can I!"

           Malfoy moved his head forward and shifted the side of his body, releasing Harry's right arm so that he could get Malfoy's wand out of his robes.

           "What side?"

           "Your right. In the pocket."

           Harry fumbled around with the numerous amount of layers Draco had on, trying to find the pocket of his robe.

           "Any day now."

           "Shhh! Filch is still here."

           Malfoy's weight continued to crush him, as if the wardrobe were getting smaller, making it immensely more difficult to find his pocket, but after a minute of searching, Harry wrapped his hand around both wands and pulled them out, navigating the wand that was definitely not his into Malfoy's hand and keeping his own.

           " _Muffliato,_ " Malfoy whispered, pointing his wand at an awkward angle toward the doors of the wardrobe. Harry wanted to ask what kind of spell he'd just uttered, but would feel embarrassed if Malfoy found out he knew a spell that Harry didn't. "Shit..."

           "Shhh!"

           Something sharp was jabbing into Harry's side, and he realized it was Draco, trying to cast another spell.

           "Haven't heard of that one yet, then?" Draco sneered haughtily, his white teeth the only thing visible in the darkness. He was no longer whispering; Harry knew what the spell had done, now, and wished he could kick Malfoy, but couldn't move his legs enough.

           "Where'd you learn it?"

           "That’s none of your business. And stop squirming around, you're--"

           "Well, what am I supposed to do about it? I can't move!"

           "Put your shoulders back."

           Harry leaned back so far he could feel the hard edges of the wardrobe biting into his skin. Then, he was able to move his knees out and hold them against Malfoy's, which kept them at least from being fully on top of each other.

           "Merlin, _ow_! Not there, _not there_!"

           Harry shifted abruptly in reaction to Draco's mad flailing, but his legs ended up in the exact same place they were before. Draco opened his mouth, ready to call Harry out on it, but the doorknob on one of the doors was rattling, which meant Filch was trying to get in.

           " _Colloportus!_ " Harry yelled, aiming his wand at the door after a second's hesitation, and the doorknob locked itself in place. They both breathed heavily against each other's faces, relieved to have escaped Filch again. The doorknob only twisted a few times before Filch growled and walked away from the wardrobe to talk with Mrs. Norris.

           "You're lucky this time! Filthy little nits, out and about when they ought to be _learning_..."

           Mrs. Norris meowed as if in agreement, and Filch's voice seemed to be farther away when he started to talk again. Harry was crossing his fingers, waiting for Filch to leave so he could get out of the wardrobe and as far away from Malfoy as possible. Every second he spent pressed under him felt like an hour. He wouldn't be surprised if they got out and realized a week had gone by. When Malfoy's hand slipped and thumped against the wall, Harry jumped, thinking it was Filch again. Draco's cheek was alarmingly hot against Harry's, and he tried his best to lean away, but there wasn't enough room. It was as if someone were pressing a steaming mug of coffee into his face, and when he realized what was probably making Malfoy's face heat up, his face did the same.

           "Oh."

           Their eyes connected in the darkness and Draco scowled deeply.

           " _Bite me._ "

           "You, er--" Harry started awkwardly, not knowing what to say.

           "Oh, be quiet, Potter. Not everyone is in love with The Boy Who Lived."

           "That's not what I was going to say!"

           "I know _exactly_ what you were going to say!"

           An uncomfortable, half-angry, half-mortified silence followed, and Harry couldn't hear footsteps anymore.

           "I think Filch left."

           Draco turned cautiously, embarrassingly aware of where Harry's leg still was, and opened the door a crack to look down the hall. No one was there. Filch had left. As if something had stung him, Draco lunged out of the door, landed on the ground, and dusted himself off, his face still beet red. When Harry came out of the wardrobe, too, Draco pointed his wand at him pitifully.

           "Not a word of this. To anyone."

           Harry frowned, confused.

           “What?”

           Draco’s face fell and he swallowed.

           “You don’t understand. _No one can know_.”

           His grey eyes were glazed over with the kind of omnipotent fear that made Harry’s stomach churn. Malfoy’s hand shook slightly and he kept his wand pointed at Harry for a few more seconds before turning and running down the hall.


End file.
